


Tell Me (Don't)

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Dean, Pining Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Cas is gone. Dean is missing him, worrying it's too late to tell him what he needs to.





	Tell Me (Don't)

So I’m gonna tell you some things about our future. And you’re gonna listen, ‘cos you always listen to me, whatever crap I’m tellin’ you; you always do.

 

(Tell me you’re listening to me now?)

 

You and me, well, we’ve got a place. Nothing fancy, just a fixer-upper of a house that we’re slowly working on - _I’m_ working on; kinda showing you the ropes, but you look at a claw hammer same way you do a can of paint, so. Guess that kinda stuff’s not your thing, huh?

 

But anyway, we’ve got a house, a place where, it’s just me and you, you know? Sam’s around a lot, ‘cos why wouldn’t he be, but when he pulls that abomination of a car out of our driveway (‘probly a Prius or something… that kinda shit reeks of Sam), and we lock that front door, it’s just me and you behind it. It’s always been me and you, even if I’ve never got round to telling you it ‘till now.

 

(Please don’t tell me it’s too late for you to hear it).

 

Anyway; we’ve got this huge TV setup with a screen that’s like… a whole wall. Maybe not a whole wall, but big enough, and you’re working your way through Netflix, or whatever’ll replace Netflix in the future. Got a couch deep enough for us to sink into; we even fall asleep there sometimes. Together, you know? Like, _really_ together. ‘Cos obviously, it’s the future, and I’m over being a selfish, cowardly bastard, and’ve got round to _telling_ you how I feel about you. ‘Stead of just staring all the time, _thinking_ it at you. Not giving in to what I want.

 

(You. _You’re_ what I want, you’re _always_ what I want.)

 

And the kitchen; not gonna lie - that’s mine. Can’t trust you with even a microwave; though, seriously? What’s with you knowing how to drive a car, work a cash register, make a sandwich, but anything else that’s... I don’t know. Self-sufficient, you’re clueless about?

 

(Can answer that myself, actually - it’s ‘cos you got _me_ to do all o’ that stuff for you. Kinda like it like that too; I like knowing that you need me for something.)

 

And upstairs, we got the essentials. And by that, I mean we got a bathroom with a killer shower, and a spare room full of your books ‘n stuff. I call it your _office_ ; you don’t call it anything, but it’s like where you store all the stuff that reminds you who you used to be. Got your books, journals, tons of photos and junk you sift through when you close the door in my face when I’ve pissed you off and need some time alone. Which, I’m pretty happy to say, is not that often, anymore.

 

(You _like_ me, my company, for whatever reason.)

 

And then, after the essentials up there, we got our room. It’s nothing fancy, just a good, solid bed, enough closet space for everything - for me to fold everything in to and hang, and you to shove stuff in there and yank the doors closed quick to hide it all. Don’t think I haven’t noticed (don’t think I don’t go and tidy it all up for you when you’re mad at me and I can’t even _think_ for knowing there’s a closed door between us).

 

It’s our space, you know? Me, you, and that’s it. We don’t need anything else, we’re not - I mean, I’m not saying our future’s boring or anything; ‘cos it’s not. It’s the thing that keeps me going _now_ , through the shitty days, constant fighting, and just _existing_ that we’re doing, that don’t feel like any good sort of living, if I’m real honest about it.

 

(You make me honest.)

 

And there’s, like, no doubt between us. No second-guessing, nothing hidden in our words, or - denying of anything. We’re good; open and honest, and you know what? I don’t care who knows about it: we love each other. We _do_ ; we always _have_ done. Forgiven each other a thousand things; hell, you even forgive me for every single time I’ve called you out for shit I had no business calling you out on, but I did ‘cos I can’t tell you what I’m thinking. How I’m feeling when you’re gone. That I’m missing you, scared for you, scared of _telling_ you. That it’s you I want.

 

I _love_ you.

 

(Why was I too much of a coward to tell you before now?)

 

Anyway. _Future_ us; we’re _good_ , we’re happy, and we’re just… we’re just _us_ , you know? I’m not saying we’re _perfect_ , ‘cos who gets _perfect_ anyway, huh? We don’t, that’s for sure; been through too much, done too much... _lost_ too much for it to ever be perfect. But you, you’re about the closest thing to perfect I ever got.

 

(You’re everything; everything I told myself I didn’t want, and everything I ever wanted to have.)

 

Do you know what it’s like waking up with you in the future? You’re just… _there_. Head on the pillow next to me, so close I can touch you, anytime I want. Every chance I get. No holds barred; we _want_ , and we _take_ , and it’s so _good_ ‘tween us, that I- I curse myself every damn day for not having started this thing - _us_ \- a whole lot sooner.

 

(It’s not too late. Tell me it’s not too late?)

 

And that’s all you and me need. We got a simple life, with simple stuff, and we’re just… happy, you know? Easy. Good. We just fit; we always fit. I just… I just never found the right way to say it until now. You know that, don’t you?

 

(Tell me you know it.)

 

And my eyes don’t see a damn thing but you. I mean they haven’t, really, for years anyway; people only really got my attention when I was missing you something awful, or lying about - _hiding_ missing you in the first place. Distraction; can’t tell you how many times I needed distracting in all kindsa ways to stop myself from blurting it out. I _love_ you.

 

(You know that I love you. Don’t you?)

 

When you’re _gone_ like this, I just. I can’t _think_ straight. Can’t see straight. Can’t do anything; you’re all that fills my head. Sometimes it gets like that anyway for me, if you’re gone or not. And it’s not good being like that, I know it isn’t, ‘cos it makes me unfocused. Makes me lash out, do stuff that I- I don’t really wanna be doing, but if I don’t do it, all I can think about is how bad I want you - and how I can’t have you, ‘cos I just don’t deserve it.

 

But that’s like, that’s _now_. _Now_ I’m still stupid, _now_ can’t say any of the stuff I need to without screwing it up; _now_ that I can’t stop myself doing the things I know I shouldn’t be doing just to deal with the fact that you’re _gone_ wherever you’re gone. But in the future, I’m not like that at all; never _stop_ telling you - showing you, how I feel, or what I want.

 

(I want _you_ ; I always wanted you. I just didn’t know how to say it, or how to stop myself wanting.)

 

Tell me it’s not too late?

 

Future you and me; we’re good, we’re _so_ good. We’re just… we’re just _us_ , you know? But _better_ ; none of this crap about not saying anything or- not saying what we mean all the time. I - _we_ don’t play those kinda games no more, and we’re just.... We’re just _good_ , you know?

 

Tell me you know. Tell me you’ll be around for our future. Tell me you being _gone_ just means you’re gonna come back. ‘Cos I don’t… I don’t know if I can do any o’ this without you anymore. And I know I don’t deserve you, I do, but... but I don’t _wanna_ be without you.

 

(Please tell me I don’t gotta live without you?)


End file.
